


Running

by allofthefandoms



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blindness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is gone, and Phil doesn’t even really understand why.  This is not to keep a secret from Phil, or even really to keep a secret from SHIELD.</p><p>So why is he running?  Why are his rooms getting progressively dirtier and sloppier when his pension could pay for any flat he could dream of?</p><p>Why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running

**Author's Note:**

> For my friend and RP partner beyondmysights and her amazing going blind Clint.

1.

The first place Clint goes is a tiny flat in Paris, little more than a walk in closet on a tiny cobblestone street. The landlady says he left suddenly and without notice, but that the rent was paid for two more months, so she didn’t quite know what to do.

His SHIELD badge gets him an hour in the room, and what he sees breaks his heart. 

It’s clear that Clint really did leave without warning, the room messy and unkempt. If anything, it reminds Phil of when he first saw Clint’s flat before they moved in together, and it hits him like a physical blow.

His travel bottle of cologne is still in the bathroom along with a familiar grooming kit (Phil had always made fun of Clint for his love of pomade, but now it seems like a cruel taunting joke) and he finds one of Clint’s black T-shirts half tucked under the bed, and he buries his face in the familiar smell.

But he doesn’t cry until he sees the engagement ring on the bedside table.

 

2.

Phil knows why Clint goes back to Budapest. There are good memories there, for Clint and Phil and Tasha. They were the closest thing any of them had to a family, and Phil swears he can still hear the ghost of their laughter as he walks down familiar side streets.

But he doesn’t manage to find Clint here, not even a trace of him, though all the evidence screams that he is here. All of their old haunts turn up empty, and Clint is either far better at disguise than Phil gives him credit for or none of Phil’s contacts there have seen him.

And so Phil wanders the streets like a lost puppy, looking up at the towers and minarets with a heavy heart.

 

3.

It’s three weeks before Phil gets another hint of a trail. It bounces around for a while, sending him on overnight flights to La Paz, Sau Paulo and eventually a tiny town outside of Mexico City.

This time it seems that violence has driven Clint away, and Phil curses his bad luck. He prays that Clint is taking care of himself, but knows that he is probably not.

The trail goes cold at a backwater medical office and Phil catches his flight back to New York City with a ball of dread curled up in his stomach that doesn’t leave until there is a confirmed sighting in Scotland.

 

4.

He gets a call from Louise about why his finance has dropped by the house in Scotland without him, but when questioned, she admits that he was only there for a night, and that he seemed to be limping and sickly.

“Hope you’ve been treating him well.” Phil can’t even protest at the accusation in her voice as he tells her he hasn’t seen Clint for a while and to have him call if she sees him around.

Phil doesn’t tell her that he’s just thankful Clint is still alive.

 

5.

The closest he gets in those two months is a flat somewhere in the former Soviet Union. (Phil can’t really remember where. He’s been so many places in such a short period of time that they are starting to blur into one mass of “Clint’s gone” and Phil is starting to despair of ever seeing the man again.)

The bed was warm when Phil got there, garbage hastily shoved where it wouldn’t be quite so visible. Phil yells and screams and breaks things before crumpling into the bed, the rapidly dissipating heat a painful metaphor that Phil can’t dwell on without wanting to be sick.

Clint is gone, and Phil doesn’t even really understand why. This is not to keep a secret from Phil, or even really to keep a secret from SHIELD.

So why is he running? Why are his rooms getting progressively dirtier and sloppier when his pension could pay for any flat he could dream of?

Why?

Phil cries himself dry on the pillow that still faintly smells like Clint and wipes his eyes before pressing crisp bills into the landlord’s hand for the damages.

No reason to stay, not here.

+1

He finally finds Clint in Mumbai, holed up in what can only be described as a slum. Gone are the crisp black jeans and the fitted black t-shirts that made up so much of Clint’s casual wardrobe back home, gone are the well-tended muscles and well-kept short hair. Phil’s guess is that he’s lost 40 pounds over the past two months and his hair is limp and greasy and falls into his eyes. A thin shawl is draped over his shoulders, and he is staring out the window, eyes not quite focusing.

Phil wonders how much he can still see of the garbage strewn street outside his shack.

“You left your ring in Paris,” Phil said, holding out the simple wedding band as Clint leaps to his feet, one hand out as if to find the wall. His eyes focus on Phil after a moment that is painfully long, and Phil doesn’t know quite what to do.

So Phil grabs Clint by the hand and pulls him to him, pouring the fear and loss and love that had been swamping him for the agonizing months that he had been gone. Clint tastes like cheap liquor and dirt, and Phil wonders when the last time Clint bathed.

When they pull away, Phil just looks at him, and drags him out into the street, shoving him onto the scooter that’s waiting there and hoping they can work things out.  
Later, after they’ve stumbled through the motions of a shower in the fancy hotel room, they finally start to talk.

“I’m not here on SHIELD’s behalf,” he starts, and Clint blinks up at him slowly.

“Then why come at all?” Clint’s voice is a low, neglected growl.

“Because I love you?” Phil says, not understanding why Clint would ask a question like that. “Because I still fully intend to marry you, blind or not. Clint, I knew this was coming. I knew you’d go blind and I still asked you to marry me. And I’m asking you now.”

Phil drops to one knee, and the sad smile that breaks across Clint’s face makes all the worry worthwhile.

“Marry me, Clinton Francis Barton?”

“Yes.”

And somehow, that’s enough.


End file.
